The Case of Mistaken Identity
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Phil has been captured by dangerous people wanting information. But they've got the wrong man. No, really. Disclaimer: I don't own any Marvel thingummies, nor am I making money from this.


**Note: Set post-finale of season 2 of 'Agents of SHIELD', with slight spoiler for post-credits scene of 'Ant-Man'.**

"The Case of Mistaken Identity"

Phil blinked back blood and sweat.

 _This is the problem with getting involved with the Avengers again_ , he thought. Perhaps it was unfair, since he was already in danger as Director of SHIELD, but Simmons's disappearance led Phil to seeking out the Avengers. They didn't let him go after that. On one hand, Tony Stark built him a nifty metal arm. On the other hand, Phil had a lot of making up to do once Simmons was recovered and SHIELD moved into Stark Tower.

Then Bucky Barnes came into their lives after Sam found him, and whenever one of his team wasn't around bugging Phil, Bucky was there, watching from a distance whether cooped up in his office, working in the kitchen, or exercising in the gym. After Phil noticed the lustful looks from Steve and Bucky the first time they saw Phil flying his car, he invited them along for a drive, on the strict understanding that if they hurt Lola in any way, there would be no more invitations. But they treated her like the princess she was.

As Bucky continued to piece himself into some semblance of a whole being, Phil was there, giving him books and music and movies to keep him occupied while Phil worked, took him for extra drives if he was especially down, and was the twenty-four-hour support that Steve couldn't be. Not while he remembered his old friend too well.

Eventually – the others said 'inevitably' – Phil allowed Bucky into his bedroom, his bathroom, his entire life. And he was positive that as soon as the Avengers discovered what had happened to Phil, Bucky would go berserk in trying to get him back. Phil knew this, because that would be his reaction were the situations reversed.

"Tell us where to find the necklace!" one of the men said. Phil glared at him, and didn't speak. He'd told them sixteen times that he didn't know what they were looking for, and his request to see whoever was in charge was denied every time he'd asked. Words seemed pointless. Maybe silence would be more effective? Only one way to find out.

"If he refuses to tell us the information we desire, we should kill him now," someone remarked from the door. Bingo. Person in charge. The voice was high, but didn't sound female. He wouldn't waste precious thinking time identifying the gender of whomever had arranged his abduction.

"I don't know what you're looking for," he muttered.

"The necklace."

"I know a number of women who wear jewellery. You'll have to be more specific."

"The one HYDRA told you about," the voice said, getting closer. Phil couldn't hear footsteps, only the restless shuffling of the hired goons nearby.

"HYDRA?" he said. "I'm SHIELD. I've never worked for HYDRA."

"We know you were their puppet."

"Show yourself," Phil bit out. He was allowed to be short-tempered; they'd been beating him for a couple of hours, sometimes throwing in a whip or a knife for a change of pace.

"Very well."

The Big Bad floated – literally floated – around the chair until it was facing Phil. It was a head. A disembodied head. There were… _way_ too many jokes, Phil was having trouble picking the best one to use.

" _You_ need a necklace?" he said, indicating with his eyes the lack of a neck. Dark green eyes narrowed. "Should I call you the Cheshire Cat? Or Marie Antoinette? I'm sorry, the last one was inappropriate. You might have French ancestry. What's your name? I honestly can't even tell what gender you are—"

"Do not deflect!" the head hissed. Where were its vocal chords? How did it breathe without lungs or function without a heart to pump the blood? Or was the rest of the body invisible? "Your masters told you the location, and we know all about your mission fifteen years ago. That necklace had been in my father's family for gene—"

"Was he able to wear something around his neck? Did he even have one?"

"Silence!" If Phil had been able to move his hands, he would've made the zipping motion across his lips. As it was, he had to sit there and listen. Wow. He wondered if it was like this for the head of operations all the time. Hee-hee. Head. Oh, the blowjob jokes could go on; best not to start on them, on second thoughts. "I was a child at the time, and I saw you jump out the window. As my mother lay dying, she told me of your metal arm. Ever since then I've searched—"

But Phil tuned the rest of it out for two reasons. One, he felt a tingle in his arm, a sensor Tony had thrown in after Phil and Bucky became lovers, so that if one of them was missing and hit the panic button, the other could track them, and as they got closer there would be the tiniest vibration. Two, he realised that there had been a minor misunderstanding, and felt that it was his duty to clear it up.

Just as soon as he caught his breath.

Phil nearly fell out of the chair with the force of his laughter. He was bent almost double, chest heaving with fast, deep breaths. He almost choked on the air, chortling at the thought that they'd mistaken him for…

"Oh… my God," he said, trying to speak. There were tears pouring down his cheeks, but no longer from the smart of forming bruises or the sting of leather lashes. "You… thought… Really, I don't know… whether to be… flattered… or not. I'll go with… flattered. You think I'm… the _Winter Soldier_?"

"You are," the head said, floating closer. It looked angrier than ever, but Phil couldn't care less. With the amount of endorphins flooding his system, he felt like he could take on the world. "We know of your association with the Avengers. You will return—"

"Priceless," Phil said. "This is priceless. Wait `til the others… hear it." He burst into giggles again. "You really… don't know anything… about him. Do you? Honestly, I could've been any amputee—"

"There are no others with your type of arm," he said, nodding towards Phil's prosthetic limb. Well, that was true, Phil gave him that. "And you have been observed entering and leaving Stark Tower."

"I don't have to explain myself to you," Phil said, sobering up. They'd been watching him? They'd been planning to torture Bucky? He was lucky they didn't know about the super healing, or they might not have gone so easy on him. Hell, this was beginners' stuff. Why did he have to get kidnapped by morons? "Except I've gotta ask one thing."

"What?"

"What do you know about the Winter Soldier's arm?"

"It's made of metal, without flesh-like covering," the head told him smugly.

"And how much of the arm had to be replaced?"

"Well…"

"What about the red star on the shoulder?" Phil's shirt had already been stripped from him after they started with the lash. When that didn't elicit any more answers, they'd strapped him back into the chair, and blood had no doubt run down into his pants and underwear. Good thing he had that special soap to deal with stubborn stains.

"Uh…" The face turned from one thug to another, and Phil's eyes rolled back as he let himself feel a _little_ insulted.

"Besides, he's a lot older than me," he said. Technically true and technically a lie. "As in about half a century older. He's been around a long time. Do I look like a nonagenarian to you? If you're about to say 'yes', then don't. I already feel much older than my lover. He looks so young, that's the problem."

"But why would you be at Stark Tower if…" The head looked uncertain. How did someone supposedly human become a disembodied head? Phil hoped they caught this person alive, because he really needed to know the answer, or it would haunt him until Skye found the guy's profile. If one existed.

"You really shouldn't have pissed off the Winter Soldier," Phil said. The tingle in his metal hand was strong now. Bucky was close.

"What are you going to do, tied like you are?"

"I'll have to take you in. You're annoying enough that I have no problem with you being examined thoroughly by my best scientists."

"If _you're_ not the Winter Soldier, then who _are_ you?" the head asked, bobbing about in place like a buoy on the ocean. Phil gave it a shark-like smile.

"His boyfriend," he said.

Oh, what timing! Bucky kicked the door down and strode into the room, Phil watching as best he could over his shoulder. He'd loosened his confines enough to be able to twist in his seat. Good thing his captors were too incompetent to notice. Clint and Natasha followed Bucky in and began to take out the mooks, and Phil took advantage of their distraction to slip his ropes. Bucky glanced at him long enough to assess the situation and make sure that Phil was free, before returning his attention to the head.

"Don't kill him," Phil said, suddenly feeling very tired. "Simmons will probably want to open him up, if there's any more of him."

"He… had you hurt," Bucky said, left fist flexing.

"They thought I was you."

"Huh. Told Stark you should have something classier."

"I'd say something about twinsies, but considering that we sleep together it would sound wildly inappropriate." Phil reached Bucky's side, and handed him a rope. "Let's tie him up like a parcel. Or a hot air balloon. Did I ever tell you about the time Deadpool—"

"You've been tortured," Bucky said, and he and Phil began to truss up the head like a turkey. Or cordon bleu. "I want Bruce to check you out."

"Bruce is the Hulk," Phil added. The head's face turned green.

"We'll take him out to the van," Clint said, grabbing one end of the rope.

"This is the weirdest villain we've ever come across," Natasha muttered, accepting the other rope from Bucky.

"They barely injured me," Phil said. "Have you forgotten the training I went through?"

"Tell FitzSimmons to do whatever the hell they want to… it," Bucky said, jerking his thumb towards the baddie of the day. "Now get it outta here before they end up performin' a post-mortem instead."

"Aye-aye, Sergeant Barnes," Clint said, and he and Natasha left the room.

Phil was pretty sure being rescued by your lover was supposed to be more romantic than this. The number of bodies scattered around the room detracted from the moment.

"How can I ever thank you?" he said, arching an eyebrow.

"I'll think of somethin'."

* * *

 **Anyone following me on Tumblr would've probably seen my recent post about my theories regarding how 'Cap 3' will finish. This story was inspired by that. I thought of it on the bus, and started grinning like a loon. Then internally despairing because I couldn't write anything until I got home, and feared that I might forget all about it. Fortunately for nobody, I remembered.**

 **Please review!**


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